Visitation
by Broken-Vow
Summary: She had wanted to forget, yet perhaps she should have known it was impossible. And then he came to remind her.


**This is something different I've been thinking of for years. Lots of shameless RC fluff with some added in shameless EC angst—probably not what most of you want to read. Hope you're able to enjoy this (long) oneshot, nonetheless. Let me know what you think!**

* * *

 _Visitation:_

 _An official or formal visit or_

 _A disaster or difficulty regarded as a divine punishment._

* * *

There was something unsettling about this windy night.

She lay there for a long time, listening to the howling of the wind, clutching at her husband tightly and wishing that he would wake up and comfort her. She had already been feeling uneasy, and the wailing, shrieking wind wasn't helping her. It was as if it was trying to get into her house and swoop around and take her children and her husband…

With a small, impatient sigh, she tried to talk sense back into herself. It was just bad weather—not spooky spirits or other ridiculous things. Just weather. Nothing ominous or threatening. Raoul was snoring slightly, completely at ease and at peace, and she rested her cheek against his shoulder, his skin warm and smooth.

However, the wind kept roaring, and she tried to block it out, but it was still unsettling. She had been awake for a long time, too afraid to go back to sleep but tired and needing to go back to sleep. Tomorrow Lucas had a soccer game, and she needed to talk to Emma's teacher, and somewhere in between that all she had to get Raoul's suit picked up for his big meeting on Thursday and then make meals for everyone and keep the house clean and on top of it all try not to strain herself too much because she was already in her third trimester.

Something clattered outside, making her start slightly, and she put a hand protectively over her stomach. Raoul grunted and shifted, rolling away from her. She felt forlorn and sad. More than eight years of marriage had taught her not to take things like that personally—he was sleeping, after all, yet she couldn't help but wish that he would come back and whisper that everything would be all right.

Feeling that she would go crazy if she stayed there and not wanting to wake up her husband, Christine carefully scooted out of bed, pushing the blankets off of her and standing slowly, a hand on her back as she did so. It had been a while since she had been pregnant, and she had forgotten how _big_ she felt.

"Where are you going?" Raoul suddenly murmured, and she turned quickly.

"Glass of water," she whispered. "Go back to sleep." She wished he wouldn't, but he was tired and needed to be ready for work in the morning.

"Mm," he grunted and did as he was told, his soft snores starting back up.

With quiet footsteps, she crept through the house, keeping a hand on the wall and another on her heart, trying not to become too afraid. This was her home, and nothing was there except love and memories and her family—nothing frightening or threatening. But the wind was still loud, and she was feeling jumpy.

She had dreamt of _him_ for the first time in years. She wasn't sure what had brought it on—maybe Emma practicing her violin…but that was a regular occurrence. And it wasn't as if Emma was masterful or a genius at it. Her daughter was just starting, and at the moment it sounded more like screeching than a violin…But still. The fact that Christine had thought about _him_ at all disturbed her. He had been out of her life for years, and she didn't want him back now.

With a little sigh, she grabbed a clean glass and filled it with cold water, drinking deeply and letting it soothe her throat and clear her mind a bit. It was bound to happen, after all…such a huge event couldn't just be forgotten completely. She was stupid to think she could erase all those memories. And lots of them weren't bad—many were even good…all of the singing and the friendship he had offered at the beginning. It had just gotten out of control so quickly. Sometimes she couldn't help but blame herself. She had been too ignorant, too naïve and flattered and timid to try to rein him in. A lot of what had happened was her fault—and some of it was Raoul's—and most of it was _his_.

No one ever got through those things perfectly. Well, not that anyone had had an experience _quite_ like hers—she hoped not, anyway. But those huge, defining moments were critical, and she wasn't sure if anyone was ever completely content with how they had behaved and what they had done. She knew _she_ wasn't.

The dream had been frightening. She had been with her father, and they had been walking on the beach. They had come to some stairs, and she had gone down them, even though she hadn't wanted to. Then her father had disappeared, and in his place was _him_ , his eyes flaming and his teeth bared—she had tried to fly away, but he had grabbed her and held her down, and then she suddenly couldn't move, couldn't run, couldn't even scream. She had woken right after that, panting a little and looking around her dark room wildly, ensuring that it was just a dream and that she was still Christine de Chagny.

Christine de Chagny. She loved it. She looked at her wedding ring, smiling. She and Raoul had married less than six months after that whole tragedy, and less than a year later she had given birth to their son, Lucas. Christine became so caught up in the wonderful world of wifedom and motherhood that all those memories had been pushed to the back of her mind, and they had stayed there for years. Maybe it was natural that they had had to come out sometime.

She sat at the table, clutching her glass and staring at the refrigerator. A crayon drawing was hanging there. Emma had drawn herself with a cat, with the words _TO MOMMY AND DADDY_ scrawled underneath in childish print. Christine smiled at it. Motherhood had turned out to be so much more than she had ever dreamed it would be.

It was better than singing.

She didn't care that she had trained to sing professionally, that she had worked tirelessly for a career on the stage—she liked being a mother to her children; she liked caring for them and cooking for them and kissing away tears and bruises; she liked helping her husband and making sure he was happy. Those things had brought her more joy than anything she had ever done. And because of that she had never regretted her decision, not for a moment. _He_ would have never allowed children. It would have been just the two of them, alone forever, singing…And even though sometimes during frustrating days of crying children and a messy household she would wonder what that glamorous world would have been like, this world was so much better. Here she didn't have to worry about Raoul becoming moody and surly and locking himself (or her) away for days at a time. She didn't have to think about pushing him too far. She was never afraid of him or intimidated—she simply loved him.

"Mommy?"

Christine was so caught up in her thoughts that she jumped at the little voice, and she turned to see her daughter there, rubbing her eyes blearily.

"Oh, sweetheart," Christine said. "It's so late. Why are you up? Are you thirsty?"

Emma shook her head, and she went to Christine and put her arms around her, burying her little head in Christine's round belly.

"Are you feeling okay?" Christine asked, putting a hand on her daughter's forehead to check for fever. Emma tried to climb into Christine's lap, but it was difficult with the pregnancy, and so Christine situated her daughter as best she could, stroking the tangled hair.

"Did you have a bad dream?" Christine then asked, wondering if perhaps her daughter had been driven down here for the same reason she had been.

Emma nodded, still trying to get closer to her mother. Christine winced a little at the weight and the angle, and she shifted her a bit so that Emma could be close and she could be comfortable.

"There," Christine said softly. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"There was a ghost," Emma said, sniffing. "He was chasing me."

"You're fine now," Christine said. "It was just a dream. It's probably because of the wind. It's a little scary, isn't it? It scared me, too!"

"Where's Daddy?" Emma asked.

"Sleeping," Christine said. "He was snoring so loud that I couldn't sleep anymore and had to come down here to get away!"

Emma giggled girlishly, and they sat quietly for a few more minutes until Emma yawned loudly.

"Let's go back to bed," Christine said.

Quickly, Emma shook her head and clutched Christine tighter.

"You're safe," Christine said. "Daddy and I aren't going to let anything happen to you."

Still, Emma clutched her tighter and then whispered in her ear, "Can I sleep with you and Daddy?"

Christine sighed a little and then nodded, and Emma grinned widely and jumped down from Christine's lap. The little girl was six years old and was rapidly becoming too big for snuggles on laps, which made Christine sad. Her children had grown up so quickly. Still, she contented herself in the fact that she had one more to snuggle and love, and as they walked up to the bedroom she put a hand there.

It took a minute to get Emma quiet and calm before entering the bedroom. Christine didn't want to wake Raoul up yet again.

"Quiet, now, okay?" Christine whispered, putting a finger to her lips. Emma nodded solemnly and put a finger to her lips as well. They tiptoed into the bedroom and carefully settled into the bed. Emma watched Raoul for a few minutes, making sure he was still sleeping before snuggling closer to Christine and poking her belly.

"When will my baby get here?" Emma said.

"Just a few more months," Christine said quietly. "Time to sleep now."

"Is it a baby brother or sister?" Emma said, wriggling a little, obviously too excited to be sleeping in her parent's bed to go to sleep.

"It's a secret," Christine said. "You just have to wait and see."

"Can I name them?" Emma asked excitedly. "I want Charlotte for a girl. Charlotte is my best friend at school."

"I know," Christine murmured. "Shh…"

"Uncle Philippe said boys get named after other boys. Can we name the boy Philippe?"

"No, I don't think so," Christine said, feeling Raoul shifting a little behind her. "Quiet, sweetheart."

"Maybe we can give him Daddy's name."

"Maybe," Christine said. "Now hush."

It was too late by then. Raoul was awake, and he peered over Christine to discover the source of the noise.

"Hi, Daddy," Emma whispered loudly.

"Hi, baby," Raoul said, his voice thick with sleep.

"Mommy said we're going to call the new baby your name."

"Hmm," he said, clearly too sleep-addled to really understand what was happening. "Go to sleep now, Emma. Do you need me to take you to your bed?"

Emma shook her head quickly, clutching onto Christine. "Mommy said I could sleep here."

Raoul grunted and looked at Christine, who looked back apologetically.

"All right," Raoul said. "We just all need to sleep now. Everyone sleep." He settled back down and wrapped an arm around Christine, his hand pressed against her stomach. There was silence for a long while, and even though the wind was still howling, she felt a bit safer with Raoul near her and one of her children close by. In fact, she was almost asleep when she felt Emma poke her stomach again.

"Emma, stop that," she said shortly. "Mommy's tired."

"Mommy, how did that baby get inside you?" Emma whispered.

"What?"

"How is the baby in your belly?"

Christine sighed. There was no way she was going to even attempt to have this conversation now—she wasn't even going to try to make up something.

"It just is. Go to sleep."

"But how?"

"Go to sleep," Raoul suddenly said, startling them both. His command was enough to make Emma close her eyes, and again she drifted off, hoping she wouldn't dream again.

But once again, she was woken by a whispered, "Mom?"

She opened her eyes to see her son standing there, his blue eyes wide.

"Lucas," she said, lifting her head and peering through the dim light. "What is it?"

He was looking around, and she could see unshed tears in his eyes.

"What is it?" she asked again with more alarm.

"Can—can I sleep with you?" he whispered. "I'm scared."

Lucas was eight years old now, and he considered himself too old to be 'scared,' so his little plea and confession tugged at her.

"Yes," she said immediately. "Come on, sweetheart."

Lucas slid into the spot next to Emma and tried to reach over her to hold onto Christine. Emma whined immediately.

"I'm sleeping next to Mommy!" she said, trying to push Lucas away.

"Stop pushing!" Lucas said, shoving her back.

"Stop that!" Christine said, grabbing Emma's hands. "Come on, you two. Daddy's trying to sleep."

But Raoul was awake again. Without a word, he reached over and pulled Emma up and over Christine, depositing her next to him. "There. Now you're both next to her." Then he stood up, running his hands through his hair and sucking in a deep breath.

"Raoul, no—" she said immediately, understanding what he was doing.

"It's fine," he said shortly. "I'm going to Lucas's room. Goodnight." And he left.

Now that they were indeed both by her, Emma and Lucas snuggled up next to her and fell asleep in a matter of minutes. Christine lay awake long after that, wishing that Raoul was there with them. This wasn't the first time their children had invaded their bed, but she was sad that they had kicked him out this time. Usually he had no problems with it. He was probably just grumpy and tired.

But her two children were with her, and she felt the baby roll over. It was a boy—she and Raoul had found out but had decided to keep it a secret from their other two children, just as a surprise for them. She felt sad for Emma but excited for Lucas. This would be their last child. It had taken them over five years to get pregnant again, and that was only after testing and fertility classes and all other uncomfortable things that neither she nor Raoul wanted to do again. The doctors weren't sure why they had easily conceived Lucas and Emma—but it was just fact that five years of trying had resulted in nothing. Raoul had desperately wanted more children—at least one more boy and one more girl—but they would have to be content with just one more boy. That was fine, she had told him. At least they got another one. It had been unlikely.

The baby rolled again, and she put a hand there to feel him. Emma drooled on her shoulder and Lucas kicked her leg. The only thing missing was Raoul. She gave a sad little sigh, closed her eyes, and at last fell asleep.

Too soon, she was awake again, hurrying through the house, trying to get everything ready. Lucas was missing a shoe, and Emma had already spilled orange juice all over her clothes. And Raoul hadn't even gotten breakfast yet. She dashed through the rooms, grabbed clean clothes, found Lucas's shoe under his bed, and went back to the kitchen.

"Here, put these on," she said, handing Emma and Lucas their respective clothing.

"Mom, I have a soccer game today," Lucas announced, tying his shoe.

"I know, sweetheart, I'll be there," she said, pulling down a plate and mug. She glanced over and saw that Emma had put her shirt on inside out. Quickly, she rectified that. Her back was hurting already. She tried not to think of the next month—doing this nine months pregnant, running through the house, crawling around for clothes…

Raoul entered then, and she handed him his plate and poured him some coffee, trying to be cheerful and make up for last night's disaster. He thanked her with a kiss and then sat at the table.

"Dad, I have a soccer game today," Lucas said.

"Daddy—Daddy, watch this!" Emma said, jumping down from her seat and then doing a few stumbling, clumsy skips across the kitchen.

They competed for his attention for a few more minutes until Christine shooed them away to grab their school bags, coats, and brush their teeth. She poured herself some orange juice and sat down next to him, giving a little grunt of satisfaction as the weight was taken off her feet.

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked.

"Fine. Just feeling pregnant," she said, smiling. "Thought of any more names?"

"Not really," he said, shaking his head. "Maybe we should just wait until he's here. We'll see what he looks like."

"That's fine," she said quickly. "Whatever you want."

He ate quietly for a while, and she traced the rim of her glass until at last she said, "Sorry about last night. I'm really sorry. I should have said no."

"No, you shouldn't have," Raoul said. "They're our children, and they were scared. I wish my parents had let me sleep with them when I was scared."

"But they kept you awake all night," she said. "And I know you need your sleep."

"No, it isn't that." He gave her a tight-lipped smile. "It's just that I'm pathetic and jealous of you."

Christine paused and then frowned, reaching over to put her hand on his. "What do you mean?"

"They always ask for you," Raoul said. "It's always _Mom_ and never _Dad_. They fought over who got to sleep next to you…not me. And this happens all the time."

"No—no!" she said, her grip tightening on his hand. "Stop thinking like that. Didn't you see them just now? They were fighting over _you._ They idolize you."

Again, he shook his head. "No, you're this perfect parent—you make it to games and recitals and school conferences, and you cook them meals and clean the house and do all of our laundry, and they always come running to you. I mean, how many games and recitals have I missed? A lot."

"Raoul, that's my _job_ ," she said softly. "It's my job to do all those mom-type things. It's full-time, and I chose to do it. And you provide for us. You work hard so we have games and recitals to go to. You're always there for the really important things. Lucas will forget in a matter of months that you missed a couple games. But you're still a great dad. I think we're doing things okay right now. I mean, we're all alive and healthy, right? That's a big accomplishment for all of us. Right?"

Just as he was about to reply, the two children burst back into the kitchen, bundled up in coats. Christine squeezed Raoul's fingers once more before pushing herself up, trying not to wince as her back twinged, and she walked over to inspect, coddle, and send her children out the door.

After they were sufficiently hugged, kissed, and rebundled by both Christine and Raoul, they ran out of the house, leaving it quiet and feeling somewhat forlorn in their wake. Raoul grabbed his coat and then looked for his turn before he left.

She fixed the collar and creases of his coat and reached up to brush his hair back, smiling at him. He was still handsome, with his blue eyes, blond hair, and straight nose.

"Good luck at work," she said, trying not to look miffed when her belly prevented her from being closer to him. His arms still wrapped around her, but she didn't appreciate the physical distance. She continued: "Think about what I said, okay? Those two love you more than anything. And this one will, too." She put a hand on her stomach, and Raoul returned her smile before kissing her.

She simply felt... _right_ with him. She felt complete, connected, made whole by him. They seemed to fit together in a way that she had never thought, and she was amazed by the fact that she loved him more now than she had on her wedding day. On that day, she had genuinely believed her heart was too full for anything else, that she would simply love him like that forever. But time and the births of her children had made her realize how much room was still left, and it was all filled by adoration and devotion to her family and a deep, unshaken love for her husband.

With another kiss and a few soft words of love, he was gone as well, and Christine watched him go, bracing herself against the chilly day and feeling her baby move. The anxiety of last night hadn't faded completely, but with Raoul's scent lingering on her and the prospect of seeing her children again in just a few short hours, she turned back to the house with a small smile, humming softly to herself.

* * *

The summer evening was warm. The sun was low in the sky, and the streetlamp lights were just barely beginning to illuminate the darkening streets. A scent lingered in the warm air—of flowers and heat and grass being watered.

Christine sat on the back porch, enjoying the weather. Her new baby, Gabriel, was nestled against her, sleeping peacefully, and her two children were playing in the yard, running off their excess summer energy. Raoul was working late, and she hoped he would be back soon.

Gabriel gave a little grunt and shifted against her, and she smiled and kissed his head softly. He was a snuggly baby, and that was perfectly fine with her. His first two months had been very uneventful, and for that she was grateful. Still, she felt a little guilty. She had been neglecting her other two children just a bit, and even Raoul had admitted to doing so. They were both so excited over Gabriel, over the fact that they got one more baby, that they had pushed aside the two children they already had. Christine watched them play, vowing to be a better mother. Even so, she clutched the baby tighter to her, rocking him slightly.

He had been born on an early spring morning, a smooth, uncomplicated birth, and she had felt overwhelmed once again. It was almost as if she had forgotten how small Lucas and Emma had been, and she had cried endlessly as she held the baby close to her, only relinquishing him to Raoul after she had managed to calm herself down. Lucas and Emma had stared with wide eyes, touching the little red bundle reverently and holding him with assistance. It had all been normal and special and wonderful.

Now it was life again. Raoul was working, and she was trying to take care of a newborn and still care for her other two rambunctious children, one of whom was yelling loudly at the other.

"Emma!" she said. "Stop shouting, please. Your brother didn't do anything."

"He threw some grass at me!" Emma yelled dramatically, pointing.

Christine rolled her eyes. "Calm down. It won't hurt you. You two need to be nice, or else we'll all go to bed early tonight."

The two children eyed each other suspiciously, grudgingly for a few minutes before beginning to play once again.

After watching them for a little longer, she was just about to go in to grab her phone and ask Raoul when he would be back. She paused, however, as her eyes drifted across the fence and shrubbery surrounding the backyard, and suddenly her heart stopped. She sat up straight, peering through the gathering darkness. Surely she had imagined…?

But no—she could see. Quickly, she stood, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, harder than it ever had. She looked toward her children.

"Lucas! Emma!" she shouted, her voice strangled slightly. "Come on! Come inside, hurry!"

They groaned childishly. "Five more minutes?" Lucas begged.

"No—inside, hurry…Get ready for bed, and then you can—can put a movie on. Just hurry."

The prospect of a movie sent them tumbling inside, and she shut the door behind them and whirled around, then aware that she had her youngest child in her arms and she was alone and unprotected.

Slowly, carefully, she stepped down from the porch and made her way across the lawn. A tall, ghostly figure emerged, and it stared at her, eyes glowing in the gathering darkness. There was a long, poignant pause as they watched each other.

"What are you doing here?" she managed to ask, her voice tight and high-pitched.

He paused, tilted his head, and gave her that look she hated and loved. "Did you think I would harm them?"

His voice washed over her, and she shuddered at the sound. Then she glanced behind her to make sure they weren't watching from windows. "I don't know. I don't know, Erik." Gabriel gave a little grunting whine, and she bounced him, not wanting him to wake up and scream. Erik's eyes slid down to him.

"You have many children," he said.

"Three," she corrected. "And—and that's all. Just three. I can't have anymore." Then she shifted uncomfortably. Why was she even telling him this? He had this way of drawing out information from her, of getting her to say things she hadn't wanted to. Within thirty seconds, she had already told him something private, something she wouldn't have told most people.

"You always wanted children," Erik said.

"Yes," she replied. "And—and…what are you doing here?" She didn't tell him that Raoul wasn't home. She was afraid that he already knew.

"I wished to see you…one last time," he said. "To ensure that you are well taken care of. I am leaving this country permanently tomorrow."

"Where are you going?" The question slipped out.

"Mumbai," he said. "The underground crime there is frightfully unorganized."

She paled and clutched her son closer to her. This was why she had chosen Raoul.

"I'm fine here," she said. "Happy. I'm fine."

"Yes. This is what you wished for, is it not? To be _fine_."

She didn't know how to respond. It had been so long...The late evening shadows seemed to make him taller than she remembered, somehow, and his masked face was cast into deep shadows. His eyes were glowing, eyes she wasn't sure she could ever completely forget. _They_ were as she remembered them. And he looked thin...thinner than before. His hair was longer, too. He seemed...generally rougher, somehow, less put together and refined. Christine did not want to know what he had been doing during the past several years. She was sure the answer was unsavory.

"Did you think me dead?" he then asked.

 _No. Yes._ "I...don't know. I tried not to think...I hoped…" She shook her head quickly. Again he was drawing out some of the secrets she hadn't even admitted to Raoul! "Please...Erik. You need to go. Please."

"Yes," he replied. "I do." He paused for a long time, simply watching her, and then he said, his voice a soft whisper, "I could take you with me, you know…anywhere. You are still so lovely…I would go anywhere you wished, if only you would be with me. You could leave this all behind—all of this banal domesticity. You could have your music once again."

She took a few hurried steps backward, shaking her head, her heart still beating frantically.

"Ah…but you would not want to leave your children," Erik said. "That is good. You are a good mother."

"Erik, please," she said. "Please stop. I'm happy here—beyond happy. I'm happier than I've ever been. Just—just go. Don't ever think about me again. I'm not worth it. I'm just a boring housewife now, and I love it. Please."

He continued to look at her, and then he looked down at the baby nestled against her.

"Do you love this one?" he asked, pointing at Gabriel.

"Yes, more than anything," she said immediately, holding Gabriel so tightly that he let out a little cry.

"You could bring it with you," Erik then offered. "I would let you."

"Stop. No." She could not falter or give him any kind of hope. "Erik, you need to go. I'm sorry for what happened between us, I really am, but I'm married, and I have children, and—and laundry and soccer games and recitals…I'm not the same. You shouldn't have come back here."

"No, I shouldn't have," he agreed easily. "I shouldn't have done many things, you know? Yet you have this maddening effect to make me do it all anyway."

"I didn't mean to," she said. "I...I did a lot of things I shouldn't have, too, but I never wanted to hurt you."

He paused, staring down at her. "I wish I was able to say the same." His eyes were captivating, and she watched them as they burned, emotions pushing through them. Her stomach was churning, and she took a step closer, almost unaware of the fact.

"I have never been able to let you go completely," he whispered, his voice hissing in her ear. "Do you realize how hard I try, my darling? You have life here...almost everything you wished for...I could have killed myself when I knew you would not sing again, and yet then I realized that that is best. You must sing only for _me_ —not for him. Your voice reaches only me. No one else can fully _hear_ , not as I can."

She felt almost faint, nearly unconscious of her own body and the baby in her arms. Her head was swimming, and the only thing she could do was focus on his voice. Such _music_ in it...music she hadn't heard in almost a decade. Old memories sprung up in her mind, unbidden: that weightless, untethered feeling when music was there and when she had been onstage; the nights singing with him, just two pure voices and that ethereal air around them; that awful, captivating energy that had drawn her to him again and again, unable to tear herself away from his destructive nature.

"Time cannot sever us," he said. "Had I waited twenty years to come to you, it would be the same. The feeling I see in your eyes now...It will always be there. I know it. We created something, the two of us...It is something no one else can understand. _He_ cannot understand, and he cannot destroy it. You will always be bound to me."

A thin, long-fingered hand lifted itself from the darkness of his personage and drew closer, brushing the air around her face. As soon as cold fingertips touched her skin, a jolt that felt like lightning shot through her, and she blinked, stumbling away, aware in an instant of the late evening, the baby in her arms, and the lights from her house spilling over the grass. She clearly saw the man before her, and she stared, eyes wide, tears burning them.

"Please go," she whispered. "Please. I can't...My family. I love my family." She choked a little on her uneven breath, and Gabriel, maybe sensing her distress and upset by his interrupted sleep, began to whine, squirming against her. She held him closer, her arms starting to ache slightly from standing and holding him so long.

"I'm sorry," she said, swallowing harshly, rubbing the infant's back soothingly. "Erik, please. I'm so sorry. Just...forget me. Please."

"How can I?" he replied, his eyes flashing, his voice raw. "You will not release me!"

"You won't let me go, either!" she cried, tears starting to fall. Gabriel was whining louder now, and she could recognize that he was upset and hungry now as well, but she stood there still. "How could you come back here? I'm happy! Erik, I'm happy here! I don't want—how could you come here and say this to me? I don't know what to do for you...I can't fix you! I have a life now! And—and you can't be a part of it. You need to go. And you can't come back. Ever."

The silence between them was thick, and even the baby's continual cries didn't seem to penetrate it.

"Very well," he finally said, his voice tight and controlled. "I will do as you say. I will leave you to your... _perfection_ and will go on to live in a miserable, wretched state. And it will never end."

"I can't help you anymore, Erik," she said weakly. "I can't...I'm sorry. I wish it didn't have to be like this. I wish you could be happy."

"Without you, I shall never be."

"That's not true." She backed up a few more steps. He seemed to be fading into the darkness again, his outline and mask less defined, and she continued to bounce Gabriel soothingly, though he was wailing loudly and insistently by then. "Please just...forget about me. You have so many things to offer. Please do something good. And...and be happy. I'm sorry."

He continued to stand there, and she watched him for several more seconds before turning and hurrying to the house, not letting herself look behind her once more to see if he still watched her go. But he would leave...She knew he would. She could feel somewhere inside that he meant it when he said he would not come back. The last time she would ever see him…

Lucas and Emma were happily absorbed in a colorful loud cartoon of some kind, and they turned to glance at her, obviously hearing Gabriel's screams.

"He's so loud, Mommy!" Emma said, wrinkling her nose in displeasure. "Why is he doing that?"

"He's just—just hungry," Christine replied, hoping she didn't sound how she felt. "I'm going upstairs to help him sleep. It's almost bedtime for you two, all right?"

Neither answered, already back to staring at the screen. Christine, her head pounding and her eyes full of tears, rushed up the stairs and to the nursery, sitting down in the rocking chair to nurse and sob at the same time. Usually she would sing a bit to help the baby fall asleep faster, but she could barely get any sound out at all.

As she was setting Gabriel down in his bassinet, she heard the door open and close downstairs, followed by squeals of excitement and exclamations of, " _Daddy! Daddy!"_ There was excited chatter from Lucas and Emma for several minutes, and Christine quickly wiped away the rest of her tears, making sure that Gabriel was sleeping again and would not wake up if she tried to leave. Quickly, she went to the bathroom, examining her face in the mirror. There was no hiding it...Her face and eyes were obvious, splotchy red.

Would she tell Raoul?

Her immediate thoughts were a swift _yes_ and _no_. She splashed cold water onto her face, her hands shaking. He was her husband. She had to tell him.

And yet...he had never understood what had drawn her initially to Erik in the first place. What if she told him now, and he grew confused and jealous? What if he thought she wanted to leave? Or what if he called the police and wanted to move because he thought they weren't safe here now that _he_ knew where she was? Yet Christine had a funny feeling that _he_ had known all these years that she had been living here.

How could she tell him? Had she betrayed him in some way? Those brief seconds…she had succumbed to the music. _He_ had actually touched her, his skin brushing hers for only a split-second.

They hadn't spoken of the Opera House in years, and if they did, it was only a passing comment on what was being performed or what they were showing in the upcoming season. Would he consider it some kind of regression if she were to bring it up now? They had come so far in their relationship and marriage...The Opera House was in the past, along with the memories and feelings.

Or so she had thought.

She was embarrassed, too, embarrassed that _he_ still made her feel like this. That he still drew out so much emotion. She was a married woman now, a wife and mother with years of her life now behind her. She wasn't the shy young girl he had known, and yet she had still felt her heart pound and her breath disappear. How could he have done this to her? Why would he have been so selfish as to return and try to _ruin_ all of this?

She stood there, staring into the mirror, listening to the half-distinguishable conversation downstairs. Emma was excitedly explaining the cartoon, and Lucas was occasionally adding his own interpretation. She could hear the patience in Raoul's voice and his feigned enthusiasm. He had worked so long today...had come home so late. And yet he still took the time to show interest. Undoubtedly he just wanted to go to sleep. She wanted to let him have that, too...but she needed him.

He was her husband. They had built a life together. It was a life that couldn't be destroyed by their past. It had been _salvaged_ from the horrors they had gone through together. And ultimately...it had strengthened their relationship. It solidified them. Her heart fluttered listening to him downstairs. She felt weak in this moment, and he was the only one who could strengthen her. It was the same way with him. Sometimes he was weak, and she strengthened him. Yet tonight...she needed him.

Some annoyed, childish groans came drifting up from downstairs, and she heard Raoul saying:

"No, it's late, and you two need to sleep now. Mommy's busy with the baby, so let's help her and all get into bed by ourselves, all right?"

After a few more protests, she heard the defeated little grumbles and trudging of feet to the separate bedrooms. Gratitude for Raoul washed over her, as she felt too drained to try to coerce the two children into bed. However, she knew they would want to say goodnight, and so she wiped at her eyes again quickly and went to Emma's room, forcing herself to smile as she approached the bed to kiss her daughter goodnight.

"A story, Mommy?" Emma asked hopefully, her eyes wide.

"Maybe tomorrow, sweetheart," Christine replied, trying not to feel like an awful mother. "It's too late for one now."

Emma gave a sour frown and folded her arms grumpily, but Christine merely gave her a kiss on the forehead and left the room. Lucas was waiting for her, and though she knew he was expecting some kind of song or short lullaby (he didn't ask for them anymore, but she knew he wanted them just the same), she merely kissed him too and wished him a goodnight. After checking on Gabriel once more to make sure he was still sleeping, Christine finally felt her feet drawing her toward her bedroom, and she swallowed, her heart pounding in her throat, her stomach twisting and her eyes already stinging.

She paused for a while outside of the door, listening to the rustling inside. Raoul was getting ready for bed as well, and she put a hand on the doorknob, familiar and warm in the summer evening. She wasn't nervous. She was afraid. She wasn't afraid of Raoul—no, she had never been afraid of him. She was just...afraid. _He_ made her afraid.

And Raoul made her feel safe.

She pushed the door open and slipped in, closing it behind her.

"Christine?" He was in the adjoining bathroom, getting ready to brush his teeth. "Sorry I was working so late. Were the kids good today?"

"Yeah." She sat on the bed, drawing her knees close to her chest and hoping her voice didn't sound hysterical.

"Did Gabriel go to sleep okay? You were up here for a while with him."

"He—he was a little fussy. But he's sleeping now. It was fine." A normal conversation, similar to the one they had nearly every evening after he came home. He wanted to know what his children were doing, how they were behaving and acting toward her. When Lucas was younger, he had gone through a horrible phase where he had hit whenever he was upset—and because Christine was home with him most of the time, she had been hit by his little baby fists the most. It had never physically hurt her, but as soon as she had broken down to Raoul and sobbed to him about it, frustrated beyond belief, Raoul had immediately put a stop to that, telling Lucas that if he ever hit Mommy again, Raoul would take her away forever and leave Lucas all alone.

"Let's get out of the city this weekend." Raoul was speaking again, and he emerged from the bathroom, pulling on a white shirt to sleep in. "It's been a while, and the weather should be nice. Or will that be too much hassle with Gabriel?" He finally looked at her, and he visibly paused, watching her.

"Are you okay, Christine?" He approached, sitting by her and putting a warm hand on her back. "If it's too much for me to work late, I won't do it anymore. I just wanted to free up this weekend...But if it's too stressful for you, I won't—"

"It's not that," she whispered. "You're fine. I…" Tears began to drip out of her eyes, and she tried to wipe them away, but they only came faster. She reached for him, burying her face in his warm, solid chest, breathing in his scent as if she had forgotten it, feeling the muscles of his back against her hands.

"Tell me what's wrong, please," he said, rubbing her back. "Did the kids do something stupid today?"

For some reason, that made her laugh, but she was too choked up on her sobs, and so she gave a short cough into his shirt before immediately starting to cry again.

 _The past_. It was a part of them, no matter how much they had wanted it not to be. It had reminded her that evening in a horrible, forceful way. And now she would have to remind Raoul. They wouldn't forget. The _couldn't_ forget.

She looked up at him, and he watched her with concern, waiting patiently.

"I have something to tell you," she whispered.

 _Fin_


End file.
